What Have We Wrought
by yugogirl2
Summary: Perhaps there is more behind Harry Potter being the "boy who lived" than we know. Although I've written fic in other fandoms, I've finally finished a Harry Potter fic. As I never post a story until it's finished, it may be a bit of a wait before my next
1. Default Chapter

Lily Potter sat in her physician's office, outwardly calm.  Inwardly, she was seriously regretting not calling James back from work when she'd begun having problems.  She'd told herself that she didn't think her current situation warranted taking him away from his all too important job at the Ministry.  Actually, she'd been indulging in a bit of wishful thinking.  Surely it couldn't be all that serious.

For the past month, she'd been experiencing intermittent cramping.  No, dammit, she was in the doctor's office, she'd face the facts and call it by name: uterine contractions.  As she was only in her fifth month of pregnancy, she was quite concerned.  She'd initially tried to dismiss it as a normal part of pregnancy, trying to deny that it was anything to be worried about.  

Ever since she'd become pregnant, every woman she met seemed to take great delight in passing on horrific tales of terrible pregnancies and awful childbirths.  She'd handled it by ignoring them.  She'd become quite expert at ignoring possible unpleasantness, including the possibility that there could be anything wrong with her own pregnancy.   However, within the past week, the contractions had been increasing in both frequency, and severity.  Today, ominously, she'd noticed a spot of bleeding.

She'd hurried to the doctor's office.  After a brief wait in the examination room, she watched anxiously as the doctor passed his wand once, twice, thrice over her swollen abdomen.  He'd frowned, then muttered a brief incantation.  When she attempted to question him as to his findings, he'd held up a hand to stop the flow of questions.  He'd asked her to have a seat in his office, where he would be joining her shortly.  If it was good news, surely he would have said something right off?  The longer she waited, the more anxious she became.  

Dr Fairleigh finally joined her, after a wait which had seemed endless.  His next words caused her simmering anxiety to explode into full-blown terror.  "Is Mr. Potter here?  It might be best if you have him join us."

She shook her head in mute denial, her throat too constricted to allow any words to form.  Instead of taking the chair behind his desk, as he usually did, he took the chair next to hers, turning it so that they were face to face.  She wanted to scream at the look of pity which covered his normally cheerful expression.  He took one of her cold, fisted hands in his large ones.  In a low, quiet voice, he pronounced her doom.  "I'm sorry.  The foetus has an irreparable heart defect.  As is nature's way, your body is trying to reject the damaged foetus.  All I've been able to do is to halt the threat of a premature birth.  As long as the foetus is in the womb, it will survive, as your body supports it.  However, once that connection has been severed, I'm afraid that your baby will die."

Lily's wave of despair began to transmute itself into a blazing anger, as Dr. Fairleigh spoke so calmly of death.  By the third time he'd referred to her baby as "the foetus," she was ready to explode.  She snatched her hand back out of his grip. "Damn you!  He's not 'the foetus'!  He's not an 'It'!  He's my son.  My son!  His name is Harry!  And, I refuse to accept that he's going to die.  Just because you can't do anything, doesn't mean that someone else, somewhere, doesn't have the power to help him."

The doctor again apologized.  "Mrs. Potter.  I'm so sorry."

Lily stood over him, surprised that the heat of her fury didn't scorch him where he sat.  Instead of uttering the curse which she wanted to fling at the man, she hissed out, "So am I."

She walked out of the doctor's office, and continued on down the road, walking off her anger.  Once she'd calmed down, she was again able to think, and remember.   She had a small talent at Divination.  When she'd first discovered that she was pregnant, she'd had a vision.  She'd seen her son at Hogwarts, following in his father's footsteps.  Therefore, her denial of the doctor's pronouncement was not merely wishful thinking.  She *knew* that he was wrong.  The only thing she didn't know, was how to make things right.  

When James came home that evening, asking about her day, she nearly told him what had happened.  She stopped herself before doing so.  She suddenly had the conviction that, if she stated the doctor's prediction in her own words, it would somehow come to pass. No; she would bear the burden alone, as she bore her son.  

Over the following weeks, she consulted additional doctors.  Each confirmed Dr. Fairleigh's initial diagnosis.  Lily was undaunted.  This merely told her what she already suspected: the answer to her problem did not lie in the field of medicine.

The answer was out there, somewhere.  She merely needed to find it before time ran out for herself, and for Harry.  For the first time ever, she found herself blessing the instructors at Hogwarts whose onerous assignments had caused her to spend so much of her limited free time at the library.  She'd developed the skills of an expert researcher.  Those skills were never more needed.

She quickly discarded the more public texts, as they offered no solutions to problems in utero.  Her research took her to more obscure texts, and to mustier, less public areas of the library.  Week after week passed, as her belly grew heavy with child.  Never did her confidence that there was, indeed, a solution to be found, waver.  

Finally, in her seventh month of pregnancy, she found it: the first vague hint.  There it was, in Dr. Fixit's text on "Labouring for Just Rewards" - a cautionary note at the end of a chapter: "Although the birth defect should have proved to be a fatal one, the pregnancy was carried to term.  The child thus borne appears to be a normal, healthy infant.  However, as the mother's intervention had included the Dark Arts, it remains to be seen whether or not her actions will ultimately prove disastrous."

Harry kicked as she read the words, a silent reminder that time was growing short.  She rubbed a hand along her belly, her voice a loving croon as she spoke to her unborn son.  "There, there, little one, I know.  It's all right.  Mummy will take good care of you."  Her statement a solemn vow, she swore, "I promise."  If her answer lie within the Dark Arts, so be it.    


	2. Chapter Two

What Have We Wrought

By Yugogirl

Part 2/3

Lily pored over text after text, learning far more about the Dark Arts than she'd ever cared to.  As her seventh month of pregnancy slipped into the eighth, she became monomaniacal in her research.  Her sleep was restless, her eyes, tired and bloodshot.

James could not help but be worried, seeing the changes she'd undergone.  When he'd voiced his concerns, she reassured him that it was due to the strains her pregnancy had placed on her body.  As he'd rubbed her aching back, and helped her to elevate her swollen feet, he readily believed her explanation.  He offered what he thought were words of comfort.  "At least you've only one more month to go on."

"One more month," she echoed, the words a whip to her flagging thoughts.

Next day, she nearly had it.  In a dusty tome from the depths of the restricted section, the words jumped from the page: "Information on the manipulation of the unborn may be found in the text, 'Medicus Foetale Dars Ars'."  She frantically searched, near panic when she could find no record of the text at the public library.  She admonished herself, "Think!"

Well, of course they wouldn't leave such potentially dangerous material out where just anyone might come across it.  Dark wizards tended to guard and hoard their dubious treasures.  What she needed, then, was a dark wizard.  The smile that slowly crossed her face was not a pleasant one.  It just so happened that she knew where she could find a practitioner of the dark arts.

%

Next day, she spent a long time getting ready, before leaving the house.  Her hair and makeup were perfect.  Her dress was a long, flowing, dark green with a style that complemented her pregnancy-altered figure.

Not a hint of the nervousness she was feeling was revealed, when she arrived at her destination.  She knocked at the door, even though she was well aware that the occupant of the house had wards which had already alerted him of her presence.

The door was opened before she could finish lowering her hand, which had just let go of the knocker.  She couldn't help the gasp of dismay at the site which greeted her.  "Severus!"

She had befriended him, back when they had both attended Hogwarts.  She took pity on the friendless, moody boy, who was so obviously smitten with her, flattered by his attentions.  Although she made it clear that she didn't return his feelings, he hadn't quite gotten the message.  Once she'd announced her engagement to James Potter, he'd been devastated.  He'd willingly embraced the dark arts, and she hadn't seen him since.

She was appalled at the changes that time had wrought.  The man who stood before her was a hollow, poorly made copy of the darkly handsome boy she'd known.  No longer Severus, but Snape.  His clothing hung loose on his emaciated frame.  His once lustrous hair hung lank and greasy in his face, badly in need of a trim.  His expression was unreadable as he greeted his visitor.  "Lily."  He did not invite her in.  

She was suddenly nervous, intensely aware of the absolute necessity of finding the right words to move this man to do what she so desperately needed.  If it required groveling, by god, she'd grovel with the best of them.  "May I come in?"

His face still carefully neutral, Snape replied, "If I had any sense at all, I'd send you on your way."  With a sigh, some of the haughty stiffness seeped out of his spine, making him appear less threatening.  "However, when it comes to you, I still seem to find myself decidedly lacking the ability to reject you as thoroughly as you rejected me."  He stepped aside, waving her in ahead of him.  The sound of the door slamming echoed in the cavernous entryway as it closed behind them.  

The interior of the house was as neglected as its occupant.  A layer of dust coated everything.  Snape led the way to a sitting room.  Fortunately, the furniture was protected by dust covers.  He removed the covers from two of the chairs, gesturing Lily to a seat.  Snape spoke, the mocking tone of his voice making it clear that he knew the falseness of his surmise.  "So, did you finally come to your senses, and decide to leave Potter for your one true love?"

Feeling the time left to accomplish her task passing all too quickly, Lily wasted no words in returning his banter.  She came straight to the point.  "You know that James and I are still together.  I come to you, because, quite frankly, you are my only hope."  She held her hands protectively over her belly.  "I need access to a book.  A book on the dark arts."

Snape's brow lifted at this, intrigued.  When she did not immediately continue, he prompted, "Indeed?  Do go on."

"I've exhausted nearly all of the resources available to me.  I've only a month, or less, to find what I'm seeking.  Or, my baby will die."

If Lily expected Snape to be moved by her pathetic little statement, she was in for a surprise.  He was moved, all right: to anger.  Aiming to cut deep, he responded.  "So, you want me to help you to save Potter's child.  Well, I've always believed in the time-honored tradition of drowning defective puppies at birth.  Surely any child of Potter's would meet the same criteria."  

He sat back, seemingly without feeling, waiting to observe the results of his words.  He watched as Lily held back the angry words which immediately tried to escape.  He watched her emotions as they flitted across her face.  The anger was quickly replaced by fear, and then by a despair which seemed to flow over her and swallow her whole.  God, he knew that feeling himself, all too well.

Even heavy with child, Lily was still the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he'd ever known.  He watched as her agony silently consumed her. She wrapped her arms around herself, curling her body protectively around her unborn child.  She was silent in her grief, for a moment.  Then, she looked up, her face wet with tears.  Her voice had the awful ring of hopelessness he'd heard himself, all too many times.  Her voice shook with unreleased sobs, as she choked out, "He's my son, too."

Snape closed his eyes, so that he wouldn't have to look at her ravaged face.  Dammit, he'd been doing so well at convincing himself that he longer had any emotions.  All it took was a visit from Lily, and all those nasty feelings came crashing down around him.  He opened his eyes, admitting defeat.  He spoke quietly, as if to himself, "I never could refuse you anything."  And, for the moment, it was all worth it, as he watched the joyous hope on her face replace the utter despair.

Lily quickly informed him what it was she needed, before he could change his mind.

As he led Lily to the door, he was distracted, his thoughts already on the task at hand.  "I have an idea or two, of where to look.  Expect to hear from me within a fortnight."

Lily quelled a sudden urge to fling her arms around Severus, in gratitude, fearing that he might take it the wrong way.  Instead, she wrapped her hand around his arm, squeezing surprisingly tight.  Unable to put what she was feeling into words, her tear-bright eyes said all that needed to be said as she gazed into his face, uttering a heart-felt, "Thank you."

As the next week went by, and led into the following week, Lily continued her search.  Although she had great confidence in Severus, it didn't hurt to occupy her time with research.  Finally, after twelve days, she received an owl.  It directed her to a park, and a certain tree where a package could be found.

She had no trouble reaching her destination.  When she was certain that she was unobserved, she waved her wand, with a murmured, "secretus."  The formerly invisible package was revealed to her.

She wasted no time in opening it.  The book was totally unremarkable, with a plain, worn black cover.  Severus had thoughtfully marked the significant chapter.  It would require an incantation, performed in a graveyard at midnight during the waning moon.  In addition, a complex potion would need to be prepared.  Severus had thoughtfully noted where some of the more obscure ingredients could be purchased.  She patted her distended belly, as she read.  There was a disturbing bit about an animal sacrifice, but it was not beyond her abilities.  She patted her belly as the baby shifted position.  "Hold on, Harry.  It's nearly time."

Calculating the phases of the moon, as well as preparation time, she should be ready within a week's time.  The park had grown dark around her as she read, the sun obscured by dark, threatening clouds.  Lily did not notice, her thoughts on the task at hand.  She gently closed the book.  "Bless you, Severus Snape."      


	3. ***COMPLETE*** Chapter Three

What Have We Wrought

By Yugogirl

Part 3/3

Finally, the day came when all of Lily's preparations were complete.  As James dropped off to sleep beside her, she felt guilty that she'd given him a glass of wine laced with a sleeping draught.  However, she didn't fancy trying to explain what she was doing, or where she was going, when she slipped out of the house tonight.  

She winced getting out of bed.  Baby Harry was particularly active, providing a welcome distraction from what she was preparing to do.  Every kick, every toss and turn in her belly, reminded her of the importance of tonight's task.

The instructions had required the spell be performed at a relative's gravesite.  Lily had decided upon her grandmother's grave.  The poor woman had lost three out of four children, before finally carrying Lily's mother to term.  Lily thought that that might have a bearing on the positive outcome of her task.  

Although she was dabbling in the Dark Arts, she'd convinced herself that the only thing that classified this particular spell as dark was the animal sacrifice.  She tried to convince herself that she felt no guilt about that aspect of the spell.  After all, her neighbor's cat had fortuitously led her to a rat's nest.  She appropriated one of the babies before the cat could make a meal of it.  What was the life of one baby rat, originally destined as cat food, compared to the life of her baby son?  It didn't bear thinking about.  Nevertheless, she felt a bit of disquiet at the impending sacrifice.

Her torch did not seem to make much of a dent in the forbidding darkness.  She set it down, making her preparations in the uncertain light.  She fired the coals in the brazier, setting her cauldron on top.  After laying out her supplies, including the caged rat, she began.  She slowly added the ingredients in their specified order, stirring and chanting.  She nearly gagged when a stray breeze wafted the noxious fumes in her face.  She forced down her nausea, knowing that any stop along the way, now that she'd begun, would prove disastrous.  Finally, she was down to the last steps.  She cut a lock of her hair, tossing it on the brazier.  As if flared, she grabbed the unfortunate rat, holding it tightly above the cauldron.  As it was her child's heart that was defective, the rat's heart was required to complete the potion.  

She felt as if she were divided in two.  One portion of herself, coldly, calmly, and dispassionately completed the spell.  The other hovered above the scene, appalled.  She chanted the final words of the incantation, as the rat's heart was separated from its body, and added to the cauldron.  

With her final act, her two selves were abruptly reunited.  The air surrounding the cauldron was suddenly whipped by an invisible wind.  Green fire flared brightly, expanding to envelop her in its hellish depths.  The pain was so sudden, so intense, and so abrupt, that she felt, for a moment, as if her own heart had ceased to beat.  She did not even have the breath to scream as she curled down to the ground, finally, blessedly, losing consciousness.

An indeterminate amount of time later, she woke up, her body one tremendous ache.  She blinked her eyes as her thoughts rearranged themselves.  She shivered, and not just from the cold.  The brazier had long since gone out.  The faint hint of dawn on the horizon did nothing to ease the oppressive darkness which surrounded her.  She wanted to get out of here, as fast as possible.  She was loath to touch any of the items that she'd brought with her, feeling the darkness which emanated from them.  Her thoughts seemed slow and sluggish.  

Finally, she decided that the only thing she absolutely should not leave behind, was the book.  This was not because she felt any great obligation to return it to Snape.  Rather, she feared what might happen should anyone else stumble across its contents.  She did not want to touch it.  Fortunately, she had wrapped the brazier in a cloth.  As she did not intend to keep the brazier, she covered her hand with the cloth, and thusly, covered the book.

She made her way slowly home, her feet dragging.  As she neared the cottage, she suddenly realized that Harry's restlessness had a pattern to it.  In fact, it was more than restlessness.  She was in labour.

She took a long, hot shower, still not feeling clean even after the water had begun to go cold.  Her contractions were still paced well apart, so she knew that she had some time before she would actually be giving birth.  She looked in the mirror, and, for a moment, did not recognize herself.  She looked washed out, totally drained.  She heard James beginning to stir.  At least she could use the fact that she was in labour as an excuse for her appalling condition.

She did not know if, later, there would be a price to be paid for what she'd done this night.  However, the one thing that she now knew, with an unshakable certainty, was that her child would live.

~end~   


End file.
